My Savior
by Je m'appelle Maene
Summary: She was born a piece of me, forever entwined. What they did was unnatural, playing God and cheating Death. I should never have lived, while she should never have been born. But they wanted their daughter to live. Formally l'appel du vide. T for swearing.
1. The Prologue

"_You're getting out soon, huh? That's what we heard. Why are you so quiet, huh? Who was all mouth the other day when I confronted you in the showers? Lost my yard privileges 'cause of you."_

A light shined in her eyes, blinding her. She had no choice but to trust the guard leading her that she wasn't about to walk into a wall, though his vision was likely worse than hers. It was pitch black in the alley, behind the cement building that'd "sheltered" her for the last two months. Her eyes narrowed to slits, trying let in as little light as possible. She wanted some distraction from the sharp sting in her split lip or the dull ache in her head, which the beam of did little to heal. A short, frazzled looking man trotted over, with two others shortly behind—one in a wheelchair, one with sideburns, the latter holding that damn flashlight.

Frazzled stuck his hand out, and upon realizing hers were restrained, awkwardly withdrew it.

"You zip tie the kids here?" Sideburns asked the guard, looking at the ties that held her hands behind her.

"There just a precaution—after last night, and all," the guard made no move to untie her. Ela looked at the ground, then at the people standing before her.

The short one spoke again. "Hi, Gabriella, I'm David, I work with Bill at Child Protective Services—"  
She really didn't care. "Where's Eddie?"

"I'm—" He stared blankly at her.

"Where's Eddie? Do you know where he is?" she spoke quickly, wanting to get her point across.

"I don't know…"

"Where's Bill? Why isn't Bill here?"

"We'll have to talk about that later."

"I just—I don't understand why I can't talk to Eddie," she shifted her weight in annoyance.

"That's enough; I don't know what you're talking about. Gabriela, this is Charles Xavier. Charles, Gabriela," David dropped the subject before giving her a chance to explain. Her eyes shifted over to the man in the wheelchair, who looked kindly at her.

"Hello Gabriela. Or do you go by Gabby?"

Ela, but she wasn't going to tell him that.

"This is Logan—" he gestured towards the large man behind him.

She tuned out, not needing to hear the rest of the monologue she's heard countless times before. She's met plenty of foster families before. She's grown used to the fear and anxiety, the way you grow used to seeing your own nose. She barely notices it. But the strange circumstances in which she met her new guardians—late at night, zip ties constricting the circulation to her hands, and the way Logan seemed to be much larger than the average person—made her anxious. She knew this was about her ability, the way she'd healed herself, and she wondered what these men wanted with her. She raised her eyes from the ground to Logan while Mr. Xavier spoke with David. His eyes locked with hers and she could see him inhale through is nose, like he was sniffing something without realizing it. Maybe he has a cold.

Even without his nose twitching like a bunny, his expression wasn't harsh or cold. Mr. Xavier looked harmless as well—he was in a wheelchair, after all. She didn't like it. The people who seemed friendly were the ones who were hiding something. She was the type of person who wanted the bad news first; that way there was never any false hope. The shaken girl wanted the honesty that came with seeing people's true colors. She wasn't sure how much energy she had for lies and deceit.

Without fanfare, the hard grip of the guard's hands on her arms was replaced by Logan's more gentle hand on her back, leading her towards a dark SUV with clear windows. He opened the door for her before getting into the front passenger's seat. Somehow Mr. Xavier had gotten into the driver's seat, his wheelchair nowhere to be found.

"Buckle up, kid. We've got a long drive back to the Institute."

She did as she was told, without asking what the Institute was.

Logan opened the glove box, pulling out a pocket knife and turned backwards towards her. She pressed herself backwards in fear, though there wasn't much give to the seat.

"Take it easy, I'm just cutting the ties."

"Do you know why we've picked you up?" Mr. Xavier asked, starting the engine.  
Without responding, she rubbed her wrists, trying to flake off the dried blood—the guard tied them too tight. She didn't know these people. And silence has always done her well.

"We have talents other people don't," he continued, not swayed by her lack on enthusiasm. "Have you ever done something out of the ordinary, something other people couldn't do?"

She said no. You know, like a liar.

"I think we both know that isn't true. You're talented, you can heal."

_No, I destroy._

"Why haven't you healed your other cuts and bruises, why only the fatal wound?"

Her wrists hurt more than anything. They slid them on almost as soon as they pulled Daphne off of her, nearly two days ago. The tight plastic cut deep in some places.

Sideburns spoke up once more. "You're gonna have to talk eventually, might as well start now."

_Not really. _No one spoke for several minutes. Ela glanced around at the white interior to the car, eyelids heavy. She hasn't slept in nearly eighteen hours, and it was taking its toll.

"Who's Eddie?"

She closed her eyes, trying to let sleep pull her downwards. However, she's always been an insomniac, and the stress of the night was doing little to help. At least if they thought she was sleeping they'd stop talking to her. She's learned feigning sleep was one of the quickest ways to gauge her new foster parent's motives. Most assumed she couldn't hear them, and muttered far more to each other than they would to her. The situation was different—she was open-minded, but the two men didn't exactly seem like lovers, and the Institute sounded more like a mental hospital than a home. Maybe they thought she was crazy. Maybe she was.

"I can smell the fear rolling off her—she doesn't trust us."

"All in good time, Wolverine."

No, she definitely was.

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Sleep was eluding, as it always was, but exhaustion plagues everyone at some point. She always tried to think of something cheerful or carefree before sleep, as what she thought about in the seconds before sleep usually influenced her dreams—or better put, her nightmares. Thankfully her car ride snooze was dark and uneventful, sleep deprivation chasing away her demons.

She jumped at a hand on her knee, waking her. Logan was turned around in the parked car. "Welcome to the Institute."

The sun was just beginning to peak out over the horizon, and there were more shades of purple in the clouds than there was on her face. The white mansion before her stood tall, and looked nothing like what she expected—no bars on the windows, no electric fences, nothing to indicate the building held mentally ill patients. She strained to find similarities between this and the juvenile detention they'd placed her in, or the group homes she once stayed in. But she couldn't find any.

"You've been asleep several hours. It's morning," Mr. Xavier told her, as though the sky wasn't proof enough. The two in front exited the car while Ela stared at the building. The sixteen year old wasn't a fan of new things—change she could handle. She changed homes every other day. But they were always the same. This was different.

Logan swung open the car door. "You gonna come out or what?"

Scrambling out, she moved to follow Mr. Xavier up a ramp that ran along the impressive staircase leading to the doors. He likely expected her to say something first, to ask what this place was. It looked like he was going to be disappointed. Realizing this, or bothered by the silence, he tried to start the conversation himself.

"Most of the others will be up already, even though it's Sunday. They have an early training exercise with Storm."

She didn't bother dissected whatever the hell that last sentence meant. Instead, she tried to see the security code Mr. Xavier was punching in.

"Kitchen's that way." Nothing Logan said was very friendly, but that sentence was particularly harsh. Finally-some honesty.

_He probably saw me._

She was greeting inside the kitchen by a sea of spandex. All but one of the six in the room had some form of a black jumpsuit, with little variation—a green triangle here, red shoulder pads there. Mr. Xavier came in behind her.

"Everyone, this is Gabriela. She's going to be staying with us from now on."

_Now how many times have I heard that?_

This place seemed to have the dynamics of a group home—maybe training was their posh way of saying therapy, so no ones psyche gets hurt by the idea of seeing a shrink.

"Cool! So like, what are your powers?"

"Do you want something for your wrists?"

"What happened to your face? Get into a fight?"

Ela wasn't sure who to answer first—Ponytail, Ginger or Blondie. "I don't…" Usually when foster families had kids, they say hi and move on, maybe give her a tour. And in group homes no one really gives a crap; she was kind of looking forward to that when they said "institute." But all eyes were locked on her, and she felt like she was under a microscope.

"My name's Scott—" Sunglasses stepped forward with his hand outstretched, and Ela jumped back on reflex. She could see his frown, even without seeing his eyes, and dropped her gaze to the ground. She didn't like sunglasses—you couldn't see where people were looking. "Where's the bathroom?"

Ginger gestured to a door next to her. "Down this hall, third door on the right."

She let the door shut behind her before pausing to listen to what her new housemates were saying.

"What's with her?" she thought the voice sounded like Blondies, but she hadn't head the third guy in there speak, and voices were muffled through the wood door.

"She's had a hard few days, give her time and space," Mr. Xavier told him.

Tears in her eyes forced her feet away from the door and down to the bathroom before she forgot Ginger's instructions.

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Blue Hair had more food for a pre-training snack than they served in three meals in juvie. Ginger and Ponytail picked, Blondie spoke with mouthfuls of food, Mr. Xavier and Stripes ate normally, and Logan ate like a beast. One of her old roommates said you can tell when a kid was put in the system by their table manners. The worse they are, the younger they were. Judging by the way he perched on the counter, shoveling food into his face, Blue must've been put in stupid early.

"You should really join in ze exercise; we can see your powers—"

"Mouth closed, Kurt!"

"I don't have powers," she muttered. No one seemed to notice.

"Mr. Manners, over there, is Kurt," next to her, Stripes spoke quietly to Ela. Her accent reminded her of a foster mom she had once; a real Southern Belle. If Stripes was anything like her, this place was going to be hell. "Ma names Rogue. That's Jean, Evan," she pointed to each one, "Logan, Storm, the Professor," so it wasn't Mr. Xavier, "and Kitty.

"Jean, the Professor, Storm and Logan have been here longer than the rest of us. Kurt's from Germany-"_no shit _"-he came next. Kitty's from Deerfield joined a little later, Ah joined a little after Storm's nephew Evan—he's from the city. We're like you; we all have powers—"

"I _don't _have powers," she was starting to sound like a broken record.

"Now Ah know that's not true. If you don't have powers, than why doesn't any of this surprise you?" She waited for an answer. She didn't get one. "You're used to crazy."

_ Well Stripes, that's part of the system._

Sunglasses strolled into the kitchen, having left because he needed a different training uniform. Either "training" wasn't therapy or these people had weird forms of letting their anger out; either way seemed plausible. Everyone wants to throw a hit or two when they're angry.

"What about him?"

"What?" Scott frowned. He was one of those people who get a line between his eyebrows when he frowns—Eddie's eyebrows did that as well.  
"Where'd you get him? 99 cents store? They have everything there."

He didn't seem amused.

Sensing the tension, Jean took it upon herself to smooth out Sunglasses ruffled feathers. "Scott joined about the same time I did," she offered.

Ela tuned in and out of the conversation. It was everyone introducing themselves and explaining what made them special, with an occasional chime from the adults. Really, not much different than any other group home.

The training room, however, what not what she expected. A gym wouldn't have surprised her. A room with big chairs in a circle. Maybe a big cross hanging from the ceiling to remind us that Jesus was always there. But no, this definitely wasn't for therapy.

She stayed in the sky box overlooking the other teenagers below. Her eyes darted to the first sign of movement—Storm walking over to her. "This is the Control Room. We simulate battle situations for the students to train. Down there," she gestured, "is the Danger Room."

"Danger room," she scoffed. This was starting to get too weird—even for her.

"We offer young mutants like you—"

"I'm not _like_ you," she said, staring at German Smurf. Apparently he was blue and furry because, why the hell not.

"You are. Otherwise Cerebro wouldn't have been able to detect you using your powers. Later today, after you've rested, we'll run a simulation for you to test your abilities."

Outstanding. They were in for a rude awakening—she didn't use her powers. She knew she had them, of course, but she also knew the consequences of her actions when she used them. But if they wanted to send a giant rock at her, like they were at Kitty—_through _her was more like it—they could. They'd probably send Blue Boy in to teleport her out, or have Sunglasses blow it up, and then they'd get the hint. And most likely send her on her way, which was fine with her.

The silence hung in the room like a pleasant mist, marred only by the sound of keys tapping as Storm flung rocks and projectiles at the teens below. Each had pretty unique powers; to his credit, Scott wasn't wearing sunglasses inside just to be some posh asshole. He had bazookas for eyes. Miss Congeniality was a telepath—why couldn't Ela have gotten that power—and Smurf was a blue monkey who could teleport. She sighed, not knowing what else to do.

Storm must've taken this as a sign of communication, and tried talking again.

"The students all attend Bayville High—"

"Why do you call them all students?" she asked, curiosity breaking her vow of silence.

"You aren't a prisoner here, Gabriela. You can leave at any time."

Here or juvie—some choice.

"All the students attend Bayville High. That includes you. School starts at 7:30, and ends at 2:23. We don't have school buses, so most students walk. You understand no one can know about your powers, or any of ours?"

These people were good at stating the obvious.

"Gabriela?"

"I'm not an idiot. No one wants can know you're all freaks. Got it."

At last, Ela had shut her up. Storm flashed a look, but said nothing, and the two continued the training exercise in a blissful silence.

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She had to get to a phone and call Eddie, fast. As much as she wanted to brush off the whole Institute thing, she saw how hard they train the kids. She needed a clear head if she wanted to make it through her "test" in the Danger Room; there was no way she'd be able to do that without calling Eddie. She peaked around the doorframe—Evan had headphones in, oblivious to the girl behind him. Her target rested on the nightstand next to him. His computer illuminated his face, his eyes directed away from the door. Sunglasses was nowhere to be found. Now was her chance.

She hooked her hand around the polished wood frame, leaning in carefully to swipe at the phone on the table. It was a little out of her reach, and she strained to wrap her fingers around it. The second her hand had a good grip she swung back around, rushing down the hall. She knew she'd only have a few minutes to call, then to ditch the phone and get far away. She trusted that Evan seemed like the type of guy not to question why his phone was missing, and assume he himself had lost it. Even if she was wrong, if she got far enough away he'd never guess it was her. _Well, probably not, but too late to go back now. _

She tried dialing three times before getting all seven numbers right. "Hello?" Eddies voice—Eddie's beautiful voice.

"Hey—hey love it's me. I'm out, and I'm coming to get you. I just gotta find a way there," she couldn't get past hearing his voice, and wanted him to say more. It'd been _so long _since he'd heard from her; she hated that. She tried to get her phone privileges in juvie, but every time she got close they were snatched away—a fight with another kid, a UA for talking back to a guard.

"How are things—how's Sofia? Do you know anything?"

"I'm fine, everything's fine—"

"So that's where my phone went," Evan's hands grabbed the phone out of her hand, disconnecting the call before shoving the device in his pocket. Folding his arms, he leaned against the wall and stared at her, waiting for her to speak.

Damn it. _Damn it. _

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_C'est fini! Hope you enjoyed. Leave a review saying who you think Eddie is. _

_Hello new friends, my name is Maene, I am not a male, nor is my name pronounced mane. May-Ene. The E is stressed. Mothers should not be allowed to name children after two days of labor and a lot of epidural. _

_Once upon a time my Adv. Comp teacher gave us a strange assignment: Write the timeline out to the pilot of your favorite show. Check. Next day: Make it fit with a different universe altogether. I have to get this stupid plot out of my head or I won't be able to do anything. _

_The Fosters meets the X-Men_

_UPDATE a few chapters is: I wrote this a little offhandedly, just to get it out of my head, but I'm starting to really get in it and enjoy writing it. Thanks for the reviews!_

_I know OCs get a bad rep for being self insert characters, or Mary Sues, but that isn't what this is. I promise, and if I ever slip into writing a Mary Sue call me out (though I do reserve my right to disagree C:)_

_Peace out girl scouts_


	2. The Brother

_I really want to put Jubilee into the story…trying to work out how xp_

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"Come on," he said, leading her into room. He guided her with a hand on her back. She really didn't appreciate how touchy feely everyone in here was—except Rogue, at least.

Credit to him for having manners, Blondie pulled out the desk chair for her to sit before dropping to the ground in front of his bed. His body posture screamed casual; back leaned against the bed, one knee raised, one arm draped over it. Ela, however, sat coiled as a snake, and the stark contrast between the two of them was infuriating. It was like he was taunting her. The two stared at each other for a moment before Evan spoke.

"You can talk to me, or you can talk to the Professor. Your choice."

These people must enjoy false choices—there's a difference between a choice and picking the lesser of two evils. Like when your mom told you that you could take a shower before dinner, or after dinner. It seemed like it was your choice, but one way or another your ass was getting wet. Though the last thing she needed was messing things up with her new guardian and getting shipped out. For once, she actually had to try to stay; this was the closest she's been to Eddie in months, and she couldn't let that slip away. She wasn't sure how to actually convince these people to keep her around; her main goal at each foster home was to screw up and get sent packing so that they put her in a new home, and she figured she'd cut the act when she was close enough to Eddie. Bayville was probably as close as she was going to get, and he couldn't stay with Anthony much longer. So she had to try.

"What do you want me to say?" she chewed the inside of her cheek nervously. She forgot how to be nice.

Evan pushed his arms out in front of him, stretching out his back before speaking. "You could start with telling me who that person you were talking to was."

She sighed, choosing her words carefully. Maybe if she just told him a little, she'd turn him off her scent. Maybe he'd get bored. "That was Eddie."

"Eddie—is he your boyfriend or your pimp or something?"

"Pimp. You think I'm a prostitute?" She raised her eyebrows, genuinely offended.

"Sorry. But who is he then?"

"Well he isn't my pimp I can tell you that much."

"Gabriela—" Evan rolled his neck, annoyed at her stalling.

Was there even any reason to lie at this point? She was screwed one way or the other. "He's my brother."

He sat up straighter. "Your brother?" he asked, though it was more of a statement than a question.

"We got…split up, after I got red flagged," she never imagined how hard it would be to really talk again after going so long without doing so.

"Red flagged?"

"I screwed up and they pulled me out of the house we were in."

He raised his eyebrows.

"I sort of wrecked my foster father's car," she dropped her head, rubbing the back of her neck. Honestly, she wasn't proud of it. But she had to.

"Is that what landed you in juvie?"

She brought her head up, resting her chin in her hand. "You know I was in juvie?"

"Course, the Professor told all of us. We don't keep secrets here," he said. "How long since you saw your brother?"

"Six months," Six months, two weeks, nine days.

"Well where is he now?"

"Why do you care?"

"You're really not used to being around people, are you?"

_Well what gave that away, _she thought bitterly. She didn't respond, and she could see Evan growing more aggravated as he waited for her to say something.

"Seriously, you gotta trust us here. We're a team and now, and like it or not you're part of it."

How was she supposed to be a member of a team of mutants when her power only hurt people? "He's in a foster home in the Bronx. I need to get him," she said the last part without really thinking about it, and regretted it instantly. Now he knows she's trying to leave, and he'll tell his aunt or the Professor or Logan and she's screwed. And Eddie's stuck with Anthony.

"Ok. After your training exercise I'll go with you to get Eddie—"

"Yeah no. Look, I appreciate the help and all that, but I don't need it." The last thing she needed was a member of her new "team" to meet Anthony—or better yet, for Anthony to meet a member of her team.

"Yeah no. My mom lives in the Bronx; I know which trains to take there. Do you really know the way from Bayville to the Bronx?"

"Yes." No.

"I don't think so. I take you or someone else on the team does, either way you're not going alone. And really, you could ask Jean or Kitty or Kurt—but I know the way."

"You don't trust me to leave by myself?"

He rolled his eyes. "No, I don't trust your sense of direction. Bayville to the city is a lot of subways and it's easy to get lost on them. I'm a city kid and I still get on the wrong train sometimes. And something tells me you aren't a city kid."

"I lived in the city," she says, though it was for two days.

"Whatever. You haven't taken the subway from here to the city; you need to go with someone. It's not 'cause your new, it's 'cause it's a long ride and if we leave after your set in the Danger Room it's gonna be dark when we get back. I'm not saying you can't take care of yourself, but you're barely five foot and there are some real creeps in the city."

She was beginning to get the feeling this guy had a macho complex—save the poor, helpless new girl. She could play into it, if it means getting Eddie back. "Ok. But we go now."

"No way, Storm wants to see you use your powers."

"So she will when I get back. No big deal. Like you said, it's a long ways there."

"They're not gonna let you leave until you go through the Danger Room—"

She stood up. "Look, if you really want to come, great. But I'm going now, I'm not leaving Eddie there are more."

"Is he not safe?" Evan frowned. Macho complex triggered. Besides, for once telling the truth actually got her somewhere.

"No. Can we go?"

"Storm's won't—" he grabbed her arm as she started to walk away "I'm just saying we're gonna have to sneak out. You cool with that?"

"Finally, something that makes sense." It wasn't meant to be a joke, but he laughed.

She followed him wordlessly, the two ambling down hallways. This place was _huge. _One of the group homes she'd been in had over twenty rooms—this place must've had ten times that. The hallways weren't organized in a grid, either. There were sporadic and eclectic interjections down each hall into different rooms and zones. It seemed like it was easy to get lost in this place, and never run out of things to look at. The color scheme was rich and warm, with soft velvet furniture scattered. Priceless paintings perched on the walls, and chandeliers hung overhead. It truly was magnificent.

"Do you know where you're going?"

"I've been here for weeks, of course I do."

She wasn't convinced, and was beginning to wish she'd brought some breadcrumbs when one of the doors Evan opened finally led to a staircase. It was a stark contrast to the beauty of the hall—the fluorescent lights cast a sickly glow throughout the stairwell, which seemed to span the entire mansion. The steps were metal, and open backed; it was making her nervous just looking at it. One thin metal pool that ran parallel to the steps was all that stood for a guardrail, and it was unlikely to do much help if you slipped.

"This will take us to the garage. After that, we can skateboard to the subway station, about a mile and a half away. It's not hard, I'll show you—"

"I know how to ride a skateboard," she said. _Who doesn't know how to ride a skateboard? _She wasn't an expert, but she could keep it moving and stay upright, what more was there.

"If you say so."

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Subways smell like pee. Not subtly, not a hint, but a strong odor that hugged the car. _Do people use this thing as a bathroom or something? _She's changed more than her fair share of diapers in the last sixteen years, and this place was rank with the same scent.

"Gabriela—"

"Ela."

"What?"

"I go by Ela," she looked at him. She wasn't sure why she was telling him this—only Eddie called her Ela. She supposed it was just nice to hear her own name again. It's been months since she's spoken to Eddie, so all she's heard has been Gabriela. "I hate the name Gabriela."

"Why? It's pretty."

_ I hate the people who gave it to me. "_What were you going to say?"

"I wanted to ask why you punched your foster father."

"He," she paused, deciding how much to tell. "He caught my little brother wearing one of his ex-wife's dresses. Started beating the crap out of him."  
"Seriously? He hit him?"

"Yeah. I mean, he used to hit me all the time, but—well whatever. But when I saw him going after Eddie I just—I tried to stop him, but he kicked me in the stomach. So, I went outside, grabbed a baseball bat, beat the hell out of his precious Trans Am. The cops came. He told them that I went crazy, and he was defending himself. Nobody seemed to care much about my side of the story," she finished, glancing back at Evan.

"That…sucks."

"That's the system."

The two spent the rest of the commute in silence, with Evan occasionally telling her which train they had to get in next, and to follow him. The closer they got, the antsier she became. What if Anthony made a scene when she tried to see Eddie? That was more or less guarantied, really. _How bad could it be, what more could he do?_

Not like it could get much worse than last time. Their last stop was only four blocks away from Anthony's, and with the skateboards it was only a few minutes. She was impatient and anxious at the same time. She wasn't going to be able to get Eddie out without Anthony noticing. Any there wasn't much hope for him welcoming her back with open arms—one way or another shit was probably going to hit the fan. And she was probably going to end up getting shipped off, but at least she could get Eddie out, and maybe he could take her place at the Institute.

They left the skateboards around the corner, in case something went wrong. They were stashed under some lady's rose bush, concealed by the thorns and the night. The two walked the last block to Anthony's, Evan occasionally flexing his spikes, which he'd done the entire subway ride—it was a wonder no one noticed. He was a show off, or it was a nervous habit—either seemed plausible to her.

She could see Eddie through the window, washing dishes. Last time she saw him he needed a stool to reach the sink, now he was fine without it. He must have hit a big growth spurt. She missed six months of his life—she missed his birthday. He turned thirteen without her. She always hated that foster kids got the worst birthdays; she wanted to make his thirteenth special. Too late now.

She tapped the glass. "Eduardo! Eddie!" she half whispered, half yelled. He didn't respond.

She and Evan snaked their way around to the front—Anthony got his car all fixed up and pretty again. With him home, there was no way they'd get Eddie out without him noticing, the house was too small. The two sat for a while before she thought of a plan, as poor as it was. "You have to distract him," she whispered to Evan.

"Any suggestions?"

"I don't know, walk up to the door and make something up."

He rolled his eyes at her lack of assistance, but continued on to the door. "Hello? Is anybody home? I need help."  
"Hang on! Are you deaf or what?" Ela could see Anthony growl at Eddie through the window. "Can I help you?"

"Uh, yes sir. I, um, I was looking for the subway."  
"The subway's a few miles from here." _No, dummy, there's a station three blocks down._

"I got kind of lost."  
"You're lost," he repeated, disbelievingly. The one thing Anthony had going for him was he could sniff out bullshit, and Evan didn't seem like a great liar.

No turning back now. Ela crept into the kitchen through the side door, trying not to let it creak.

"All right, man. You got to go about six blocks that way—" he turned to point towards the kitchen, spotting the sneaking girl. "Whoa, hey! What the hell are you doing here?" he shouted.

"I just want to talk to Eddie," she stuck her hand out, trying to be passive.  
Anthony, on the other hand, charged at her. "No! Shut up! No! No, you get out of this house!"

"Ok, look. I am sorry about your car –"

"No, get out of here!" Anthony's hands gripped like vices around her arms as he pushed her back, slamming against the wall. She could see Evan rushing forward as Anthony started tearing through the table drawer next to her, one arm keeping her in place. She knew exactly what he had in there.

"I can pay for it!"

"Hey, don't touch her!

"Hey shut up!" he swung is arm back around at Evan, a gun in his hand.

"Calm down, man," at least he wasn't an idiot. His macho complex finally wore out as he backed away, hands in the air.

Smurf and Wolfie burst in as Evan started spiking out. Seeing as only Kurt's hair was blue, as opposed to his whole body, Blondie took the hint and retracted. Logan tackled Anthony to the ground, pushing the gun away over to Ela—with trembling hands she passed it to Storm as she came in, not wanting to acknowledge a gun had been pointed at her head.

She rushed over to Eddie, pulling him close to her and pressing their foreheads together. He smiled up at her, his grin still too wide for his face. She ran her fingers over his head and wrapped her arms around him. She'd always been the one to cut his hair, and it'd grown too long in her absence. Her chin still rested on top of his head—he wasn't that tall yet. He was stronger though, and she laughed as he squeezed her tight.

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"Make sure this guy has a terrible night," Logan growled to the cop as he loaded Anthony into the car. Apparently he didn't know pointing guns at kids' heads was illegal.

"Will do. You've all given your statements—you can go now. Got a long drive back to Bayville."

Wordlessly they all filed into the Institute van which she'd seen far too much of for her liking. Eddie sat between her and Kurt in the back, resting his head on her shoulder. He the worst with staying up late, and it had to have been ten at night by then.

"You wondering how we found you?" Logan called back from shotgun. Beside him, the Professor put the car into drive, and the seven began the trip back to the Institute

"At this point, nothing surprises me," not when it came to these people. "He's blue and furry, she controls the weather, you're part cat."

"Cerebro tracked Spyke using his powers. Like a trail of breadcrumbs. Almost like you wanted us to find you," the way he said it, and the way Evan didn't argue, it was clear those were his exact intentions.

Cerebro. That was the second time she's heard its name. All she knew was that it tracked mutants using their powers—she wondered if it could track Eddie, or even Sofia.

"Then why'd Kurt come?" Evan asked.

"In case ve couldn't drive fast enough."

Blondie tossed a look at back at his friend. "I think you just wanted an excuse to cut class."

"Don't think you have an excuse for tomorrow, Evan. You're going no matter when we get back," his aunt said. Storm turned back in her seat to look at him and Ela. "I would really like you to understand how this could've ended very, very badly."

She already knew everything Storm was going to say—she's heard it all before. Thanks, but no thanks, we have no choice but to send you packing. "Look, if you want to send me back to juvie, then can you just promise me Eddie will be somewhere safe."  
Storm stared at the girl, shaking her head slightly. "You're not disposable, Gabriela. You're…" she paused, searching for words. "You're not worthless."

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_ The only public transport we have here is someone driving a tractor down Grande __Rue_ _at 5 miles per hour. But I spent a week in Washington D.C. in America once and I rode the metro there. Sorry if the subway and the metro aren't the same thing. There're both underground, at least. I'm assuming they both smell like pee._

_ PS I got a job as a receptionist and hopefully I can work on writing during quiet times so that's nice. The place has wifi and minimum wage. What else is there really_

_Critiques get cookies_

_Maene (peter pan was right never grow up kids adult-ing isn't fun)_


	3. The School

_Sorry for the wait! I made the chapter really long though. It took forever to find a good stopping place._

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In juvie they kept the lights on at all times, even at night. One girl used a pad and some yarn from class to make a sleeping mask; another used a few socks. When Ela tried sleeping, she shoved her head between the sheet and the pillow to block out the light and Daphne's snoring. And after a while, she did manage to drift off for an hour or two before breakfast. It was bright, and loud, and cold. The bed was hard. The blanket smelled. But still, she got better sleep there than she did here. Here, with the fancy sheets and crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. She turned it on an hour ago, thinking it would help her relax. Yet she still lied, wide awake, staring at the clock. Six hours before she had to get up.

The other teens at the Institute had training in the morning while she and Eddie were allowed to sleep in on account of their first day of school. While her brother, ever starved for attention, loved being the new kid, Ela despised it. Finding things was simply not her specialty, and the sheer magnitude high schools always appeared to be did little to help. No matter how often she moved around, how many unfamiliar homes she lived in, and how many different people she had to become acquainted with, she never hated it less. There was something stressful about not knowing where to go that kept her on edge, making it even more difficult to find her way around.

Sleep was elusive, unsurprisingly. Not because she wasn't tired—she was exhausted. The weekend had consumed the last of her strength, leaving her nothing more than a shell. From her fight with Daphne, to the abuse she suffered from the guards afterwards, to the move to the Institute, to finding Eddie. She wanted nothing more than to close her eyes and let time drift by, in pure meditation, and let her body and her mind recover. Bruises still stained her skin, and the slit through her lip was far from healed. If she could just take a day, to let her mind rest in some safety…but there was no place safe for her in the world. They say home is where the heart is, but "they" clearly have never gone without a bed to call their own. The Institute may be a place for mutants, and that may be what she was, but she'd been ripped from out of homes far too often to get comfortable. She knew better. No matter what Storm told her last night, this place was just too good to be true.

She shot up when her door opened. Her brother trailed in quietly, the light of the chandelier turning his brown skin a rich gold color. He looked as tired as she was, if not more.

"Why are the lights on?"

"I couldn't sleep either. Is everything ok?"

"Kurt snores worse than Anthony."

She laughed, something she hadn't done in months, shifting in the bed to allow Eddie to crawl in.

"How come I have a roommate and you don't?"

She wondered that herself—it didn't seem like there was a shortage of rooms. "Not sure."

He curled like a cat, facing her. "Maybe they think you need to be alone, after everything."

She changed the subject quickly. "How are you? How were things with Anthony while I was away?" It was surreal that she was actually talking to her little brother again, something she'd longed to do for so long.

"I just tried to avoid him. As long as I did my chores, he never got mad at me. You were the one always making him mad." It was a reminder, rather than an accusation.

"What happened after the social worker took me? Did you get taken to see a doctor?" She thought back to the sight of Eddie cowering on the ground, Anthony's foot in the air above him.

"It wasn't that bad." _Yes it was._ "What about you? Did they take you to juvie?"

The conversation was bizarre; before Anthony's, she and Eddie were always together, always knew how each other were. They told each other everything, because they were all they had. And neither knew what happened to the other in the last half year. "They put me in a group home for a little while, but I got in a fight with another girl. Then I got taken to juvie."

He shot her a disapproving look. "Why'd you get into a fight?"

She couldn't really remember, in hindsight. It was probably some stupid reason.

They talked for the next hour, recounting the last few months. She talked about juvie, he talked about school. They talked about their powers. They talked about their parents. Anthony. Daphne. Sophia. The Institute. He knew a little more about the place than she did, after talking to Kurt while the two got ready for bed. The school for mutants was intended to teach the youth how to control their powers. He told her Rogue couldn't use her powers either, and focused on hand to hand combat in training instead.

"What's the point of training? Are they planning some mutant army or something?"

"I don't think so. It seems like everyone's here to learn how to control their powers. Maybe you could too. The Professor can help."

"Maybe…but I want to wait a little longer, ok? I just to feel the place out."

"He seems nice."

"That's what people said about Dad."

Eddie didn't respond.

"We should try getting some sleep; we have school tomorrow."

"Yeah," he said, void of the content he possessed just moments before.

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Breakfast was every man for himself in terms of food. The other students in the kitchen, cleaned up after their training exercise, buzzed around the fridge and pantry like bees in a hive while Hank, the other fuzzy blue creature in the house, tried cooking pancakes for the group. Ela settled down in a stool at the bar, struggling to finish the coffee Hank had made her, her nerves frying her appetite. She'd shown up to breakfast earlier than the other students, who were still getting ready at the time, and he'd been making a pot. Eddie was upstairs, trying to look nice for his first day.

"Evan, the trash needs to go out. I shouldn't have to remind you," Jean nagged.  
"I took it out yesterday," he whined back, rocking back and forth on his board and eating cereal at the same time.  
"Well, it's full again. And get off your skateboard, please."

He grudgingly complied, tapping his foot on the edge to flip it up. "Where's Kitty?"

"She's still in the bathroom," Eddie offered, settling down next to Ela. She ran a hand over his back, sliding a plate of food over to him.

"Don't you clean up nice," she said quietly.  
"Kitty, come on!" Scott shook his keys as he yelled up a staircase Ela hadn't seen the day before. She was noticing this place had lots of hiding spaces and secret passage ways—Eddie was going to have a field day exploring.  
"Vhat's the hurry? Ve've have to eat," little pieces of food escaped the side of Kurt's mouth while he spoke. Was it a boy thing, or a mutant thing to be all around nasty?  
"Ela, can you put juice out for everybody?"

She complied wordlessly, hopping off the stool and slipping over to the massive fridge.

Kitty phased through the door to the staircase, rather than opening it. "I didn't have time to do my hair."  
Her hair looked fine. "Well, it's too late now," Jean said, handing her an apple.  
"We still have like twenty minutes," she frowned.  
"No, you guys have to walk to school today. I'm not going in until fourth hour."

"And I don't have enough room for all of you in my car," Scott didn't say it, but she knew he was referring to her an Eddie.  
He had yet to touch his food, aside from pushing it around his plate. "Come on, eat," she murmured. "You'll be hungry if you don't."  
"I am not going to school with my hair like this!"

Not for the first time that morning, Ela resisted the urge to scream _NOBODY CARES _at the valley girl_._  
"Well then you're not going anywhere, ever again," Hank said simply.

"Great, I get to spend all day looking like a poodle," Kitty groaned, sitting next to Eddie.  
"Vant a treat?" Kurt cooed, wagging bacon in front of her face.

"Enough—ok, guys you have to be out the door in fifteen minutes." Ela was quickly catching on that Jean was the "den mother" of the group.  
Hank set the plate of pancakes on the bar, addressing Ela and Eddie. "The Professor has a meeting with Bill today, to figure out how this arrangement will work. We're not going to let them split you two up again," he assured them, seeing the looks on their faces, "we just have to work out the paperwork. It's a little more complicated, since you're both wards of the state."

She glanced at her brother, who kept his eyes down. "Yeah, ok."

He raised his voice to the whole group. "No powers after school today, in case our guest hasn't left yet. He should be gone by lunch, but better safe than sorry. All right, pancakes everybody. Who wants pancakes? Ela, you want pancakes? Scott, pass them around, please." Shades took the seat next to her.  
"Ouch!" Jean cried, suddenly tumbling to her side. "Ok, Evan, how many times have we said, no skateboard in the house?"  
"Not hungry?" Scott asked as she passed the plate on. She had a hard time hearing him over the commotion of the room.

"Not really." First day jitters always made her lose her appetite.

"Eat fast you guys; you'll have to leave soon. Kitty, Kurt, how about you two show Ela and Eddie the way to the school?"  
She couldn't figure out why she and Eddie had to go in the first place when Spring Break started Wednesday, marking the end of the term. Teachers never handed schoolwork out this late in the term, so that wasn't it. Maybe the Professor didn't want them home alone while the other kids where at school, but he was a telepath—if they were getting into trouble, wouldn't he know? Though he was likely reluctant to use his powers around Bill, who would be here during the day. Perhaps he didn't want the two seeing their social worker, though that didn't make more sense than the other option.

"If you guys aren't eating, let's get going," Kitty said, tossing her hair into a ponytail. If that was how quick it was, what was all the fuss about?

"Why don't you just teleport us there?" Eddie asked.

Kurt shot a mournful look at his abandoned breakfast, grabbing an apple as they walked out. "Ve have to be _very _careful about our powers. Ve can't let anyone see. Besides, you need to learn ze way to school." She let Smurf and Ponytail lead the way out of the kitchen to the front door, since she didn't quite understand the maze that was the mansion quite yet. "Vhat are your powers, anyway?"

"I can turn into animals," Eddie said quietly. After so many years of hiding them to the best of their ability, which was much harder for him than it was for her, she assumed it was hard for him to talk about his powers so openly.

"Cool! Like, any animal in the world?"

"Kinda…I haven't quite got control over _what _I turn into, but I can pretty much decide _when _I turn."

"What about you, Ela?"

They clearly didn't catch on quick around here. "I don't really have powers—"

"Not _that _again!" Kitty groaned, pushing the double doors on the mansion open. "We've been over this. If you didn't have powers, we wouldn't have been able to find you. Eddie must never use his powers, or they're not fully formed, because Cerebro didn't even detect him, but it detected you. You have powers, you used them, so fess up. We're gonna find out anyway."

She had a point. "I can heal myself, but I don't like to do it."

"Vhy?"

"I just don't, ok?"

Kurt gave her a look, but didn't press the subject.

"We could show you around once we get there if you want, help you find your classrooms," Kitty offered after a long pause. "You're probably in a few of our lessons, or Rogue's or Evan's, since you're in our grade. You could have homeroom or an encore with Jean and Scott though."

A thought struck her. "Where's Eddie's school?"

"The secondary school and the high school are connected, so he'll be at the same building as us."

Eddie's face lit up. "Does that mean I get to see Ela?"

"Not all ze time, but she'll be around," Kurt replied.

"The school is just over this hill," Kitty said, as the peaks of a flagpole could be seen over the horizon. The March day was hot, and Ela was sweating through her black sweater. It was a sensible choice of clothing in January, when she went into juvie, and was forced to forgo her other possessions to the group home. For the first time, with March panting its hot breath over the city, Ela mourned her abandoned t-shirts and leggings.

The trek downhill was much more pleasant, and while Eddie and Ela were out of breath from walking uphill, Kurt and Kitty continued talking as though unfazed by the exercise. And after seeing how strenuous the training regime was, she wasn't surprised.

"Gabriela!" Ms. Something pounced on the girl as soon as she walked in the door. "Nice to meet you, I'm Ms. Simmons. How's your first day going so far?"

"It's first hour," she bit out, annoyed. "I've been here ten minutes."

"Right, my mistake," the teacher faltered. "This is your homeroom; you'll stop here in the morning for attendance and morning announcements before your first class. We're all very glad you're here. Class—" she raised her voice as the last few stragglers took their seats, "this is Gabriela Garcia. Gabriela, would you mind telling the class a little about yourself?"

She shrugged the question off, like always.

The teacher tried to coax her into speaking. "Oh, come on now, there must be something you want to tell us. Where are you from?"

_Would you like your answer alphabetically or chronologically?_ "New York City."

"The city! That must've been exciting. What did you like to do there?"

_I never left the house. _"Just…hang around, I guess."

"Where did you like to go?"

_It was a small house. _"The park."

"Do you mean Central Park?"

_There are over 1,500 parks in NYC. _"Yeah, that one."  
"Where did you go to school?"

_Don't you already know that? _"Juvenile Detention."

Funny how quickly that ended the peasantries. The class fell into a tense silence, with the boys raising their eyebrows at each other and the girls passing looks at their friends as if they where sharing psychic messages. Which she recently discovered was possible.

Ms. Simmons passed her a welcome packet along with a chagrinned apology for putting her on the spot. She honestly didn't care—her peers were bound to discover the arcane new girl did time in juvie. At least this way she was in control, taking the news from a secret to a fact.

She and Ginger shared their homeroom, like Kitty said they may, and she rushed up to Ela once the bell rang. "Are you all right?"

Fine.

"Well English is down this hallway, with Timothy." _How does she know my next class? _"I had him last year—he's pretty strict, but if you pay attention and don't get distracted he'll be fine. Do you have a phone? "

"No, I don't have a phone. How would I have gotten a phone?"

"Ok, Gabriela," she waited until Ela looked her in the eye, "we're on your side. You can take it down a notch, ok?"

She glanced over, seeing the sincerity on the girls face.

"So Eddie seems nice. How old is he again?" Jean asked, trying to be friendly.

"He turned thirteen about a month ago."

Jean headed towards a set of double doors. "Short cut through the courtyard, it's the only way I'm ever on time."

The school was pretty enough, she'd give it that. The cobblestone path was free from debris, and the lunch tables scattered on either side were freshly wiped down and clean. "Is this where people eat lunch?"

"Either here or the Commons. That's the big lobby area we came in. What lunch do you have?" Ela gave her a blank stare. "There are three different lunches—A, B, and C. If it's not on your schedule you're fifth hour teacher will tell you which one it is. If you have C lunch, come find me and Scott—we sit over there—" she pointed at a table in the back corner. "Kitty and Rogue have A lunch, and I think Evan has B. There'll probably be _someone _from the Institute in your lunch. What is you're fifth hour?"

She glanced down. "Ceramics."

"Then you'll probably have A or C lunch. B is in the middle of fifth hour, and since you can't really leave ceramics in the middle of it, that class always has A or C. Alright, this is your room—if you have C lunch, come and find me," she tossed the last sentence over her shoulder as she jogged to catch up with her friends.

Ela was on information overload. The actual system of the school was more complicated than the curriculum they taught.

She pulled a seat in the back of the class, setting her backpack down next to her. At least this school didn't bother with lockers; everyone carried their books with them.

"Are you new?" some guy asked, sitting down in the seat next to her. The class was divided into tables of four, and she supposed she shouldn't have expected to be left alone.

She didn't look over, hoping he'd take a hint. "Yeah."

"Not very friendly, are you?"

"No."

He laughed. She didn't.

The bell rang and the teacher walked in, asking "Miss Garcia" to raise her hand. She did meekly, and the boy next to her called Timothy over when he didn't see her. Unlike Ms. Simmons, he only stayed long enough to explain simple class procedures and policies, and to hand her a leather bound journal of blank pages. "A welcome to Bayville gift," he told her, "to help organize your thoughts." Afterwards he went on teaching his class as normal, discussing symbolism this and rhetoric choices that in_ Animal Farm._

There were no Institute kids in her first class, and she was left to her own devices trying to find her way to Chemistry. The building was a labyrinth of hallways and archways without much rhyme or reason as to the placement. The students siphoned out into their respective classrooms, leaving Ela alone in the hall without a clue where she was supposed to be. Not that it really mattered; it wasn't like there was much learning, though Timothy seemed to be teaching before. She gave up and tried to follow the school map to Eddie's lesson, but gave up quickly and began wandering randomly till she found the catwalk Kitty had shown them earlier to get to the lower school. If she was reading the map in her hands correctly, then Eddie's classroom was at the end of the same hallway. She glanced at the room code on her hand—J-5. She was in the right building, and the right block, so logically Eddie's room was at the end of this hall. She hoped he was in the front of the class and would be able to see her from the hall, without the teacher being able to. None of the classroom actually haddoors, only square doorways into the little rooms. The entire school was different than any she'd attended before, and the student body reflected that. Most reminded her of Jean and Scott; girls who ugly cry when their Instagram selfie didn't get enough likes and guys who's self worth was wrapped up in their athletic achievements. She didn't belong here, and the harsh injuries on her face advertised that to the world.

She saw the big J-5 written over the doorframe to her right, and glanced in, trying to see Eddie. Thankfully he wasn't too far back, and raised his hand when he saw her standing there.

"Need the bathroom, Eddie? Go ahead," the teacher said, and allowed him to slip out.  
"Are you ok?" He nodded. "Finding everything?"

"Yeah," he said, drawing out the word unsure why she had pulled him from class.  
She smiled, tense. "Ok, good. I just wanted to make sure. Did you see Bill?"

"Yep."  
_"_Did he say anything?" she asked, wondering why he hadn't come to see her as well.

"Like what?" Eddie was oblivious to her anxiety, and it was for the better, she supposed.

"I don't know. Like anything?" _Like what's going to happen to you and me?_

"He said hi. Why?" he tipped his head to the side like a puppy's.

She smiled once more, albeit reluctantly. She should've known Bill wouldn't tell Eddie anything. "Just wondering. Now get back in there," she pushed him towards the door gently. "Learn something."

She herself had to retreat back to her own classroom, before her teacher realized how late she was. Though in her experience public school teachers tended to be more lenient with the new kids, and she could probably say she got lost. This place was definitely complicated enough.

She and Kitty walked home alone that day, since Kurt had to stay after for some sports reason. Walking into the Institute, they were greeted by Storm, Logan and the Professor.

"Kitty, could you take Eddie upstairs, please? We need to talk to Ela," The Professor said. Eddie shot his sister an apprehensive look.

"Yeah, kid, it's ok. She'll be right up," Logan told him.

Storm handed her a black and yellow jumpsuit. "Here's your training uniform. Are you ready for the Danger Room?"

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_Bonjour mes amis! Hope you enjoyed._

_I'm setting this story in between seasons 1 and 2, but also in 2015, because in the year 2000 I was one and wasn't really aware of the world around me, and I don't want to go do a ton of research as to what technology they had then, what kind of music and fashion was popular, etc._

_Traditional American schools are weird. And I don't go to one. Thus, Bayville High is going to be modeled around my school. I don't think it's that much different, more so different terminology. Also, here grades PreK-12 are all on the same grounds, in different buildings. I've been on the same campus since I moved here in sixth grade. I know most American schools are independent buildings (I went to one for PreK-5) but I just prefer writing about my own school, since it fits for the story. _

_Due to that, I'm going to refer to Bayville as a charter school, rather than public school. Similar to The Fosters._

_I'm curious, what are your schools like? Message me or leave it in your review if you write one._

_Critiques get cookies; I love to hear how I can improve. _

_Maene_


	4. The Adrenaline

The foyer of the mansion suddenly seemed too loud and too small. "Haven't I explained this?" she asked, hearing the panic in her voice and hoping they didn't. "I don'tuse my powers."

"And you won't have to," the Professor told her. "We'll be testing out your powers later in the week, since we have more students arriving. Today you'll be running and obstacle course with the other X-Men."

Kurt explained the cult that was the X-Men to Eddie the night prior, and he'd passed the information onto his sister. "And when more students show up?"

"Then you'll all have to have your powers assessed. We decided it'd be more efficient and less stressful for all involved to evaluate you in groups, rather than individually."

"You can stick me in any scenario you want but all I'm going to be able to do is run away."

"Fine, then show us that," Storm told her. "We need an assessment of your skills so that we know how you fit into the group, and what your powers really are. At the very least," she said as Ela began to speak, "if they'll manifest under extreme circumstances. We're aware you can heal yourself, what we want to know is what else you can do."

"That's it," she told them. "That's all I can do, and I don't do it when I can avoid it."

"Why is that?" the Professor made a pyramid with his hands, resting his elbows on the armrests of his wheelchair.

She glanced down. "I don't know, I just don't."

"Look kid, you gotta go through the Danger Room like everyone else. Might as well get it over with. Storm'll be in there with you in case anything goes wrong."

She chewed the inside of her cheek, unable to think of anyway to get out of this. "Fine," she groaned, taking the ensemble from Storm's hands.

"It's one of Kitty's. Once we understand better what your powers are, we'll make you a unique uniform as needed. For instance, Evan's uniform regenerates itself after his spikes have been retracted."

They were going to have a fun time creating a getup for her shape shifter brother. "Alright."

"Head up to your room to change, and we'll meet you in the Danger Room."

She didn't remind them that she had only been to the Danger Room once and was likely unable to find it again. At the very least, it would give her an excuse to be late, or not show up at all.

She could find her own room easily enough, and curled up on her bed as soon as she entered. She was no where near up to going through a gauntlet; the day had been exhausting, and she hadn't gotten much sleep the night before. She really couldn't believe they were making her do this so soon, or at all. The knowledge that it was a test of endurance, rather than her mutant powers, did subdue some of her anxiety, she just didn't feel up to a "team building exercise." All she wanted was to be left alone.

A sharp tap on her door shook her from her thoughts. "Ela?" Evan called. "Can I come in."

"No."

"Change quick, I want to talk to you."

She slipped on the black jumpsuit, which was slightly small and felt too constricting. She could get the long zipper in the back, but not the Velcro at her neck that was meant to secure the metal in place.

She opened the door to Spikey playing on his phone. "Get this for me, would you?" she asked, pulling her hair over her shoulder.

"You may want to put your hair back."

"No shit. Why'd you want to talk to me?"

"Just wanted to say good luck in the Danger Room, it should be fun."

"You people have a strange idea of fun around here."

She pushed past Evan, tying her hair up with the elastic on her wrist. "Need help finding it?"

"I'll figure it out," she said without looking back. Either because he thought she knew the way, which was unlikely, or because he understood she wanted to gather her thoughts before she arrived, he left her alone to find the room.

Eddie came out from his room, dressed in a jumpsuit similar to hers, but without the blue stripe down the front. Instead, he had red shoulder pads with Xs on them, like Rogues. Wordlessly he fell in stride beside her, picking at his nails. Her brother had a habit of going mute when he was nervous. Like now.

The two flowed slowly throughout the Institute, without consideration as to where they were going. And even if they had been trying, it was unlikely they'd find the Danger Room. The labyrinth was too chaotic, Eddie was disabled by his nerves, and Ela was preoccupied with comparing the solemn and stately manor to the Castle. The Institute was swathed in lavender and emerald, chandeliers raining from the ceiling. The interior of the Castle was buried under a pristine layer of dust. At the Institute, you pad over carpet. At the Castle you ramble over creaking floorboards. Had they been at the Castle, they would've heard Storm come up behind them.

"You're going the wrong way."

_That was the goal._

"Come on, I'll show you. Really, there's no need to be nervous, today is just for fun."

Her stomach ached and she could feel a cold sweat the closer they came to the Room of Hell. She wished she could talk to Eddie alone, to explain her anxiety. All she could think about was Sofia, and all the ways this exercise could go wrong. She was good at keeping her mutation at bay, but she's slipped up in the past, especially where physical activity was involved.

The metal doors slid to the side with a hiss, revealing the massive precinct she'd seen the day before. Up in the skybox she saw the Professor and Logan. Her pulse raced. Before her were the other mutants at the Institute, spread out on the floor and doing various stretches.

"Go warm up with the others while I explain the course," Storm told them.

Ela settled beside the person closest to her-Jean. Somehow her jumpsuit went all the way up to her forehead, like a headband. How the hell did she get that on?

She and Eddie copied the others around them, grabbing their knees and touching their toes. The obstacles around the room were massive-nets and ladders and climbing walls. Her head ached at the very idea she was going to have to participate in this.

"This obstacle course is designed to give you confidence in your mental and physical ability, as well as cultivate personal courage and develop teamwork. I want you to have fun, but I also want you to be safe," Storm said, emphasizing the last word. "Listen closely to the execution of each obstacle."

Ela craned her shoulders back, trying to listen over the roar of blood in her ears.

"This is the first obstacle. You'll start by climbing the cargo net, over the top pole to the walkway, climb this ladder to the top, then climb the other cargo net to the bottom. Two of you can go at a time.

It resembled a bed without a mattress—the first cargo net was the foot of the bed, the walkway was the bed frame, the second cargo net was the headboard, and the ladder connected the headboard to the frame.

The next task was to climb up a platform, then shimmy down a rope to the ground like a monkey. "Distribute your weight between your hands and legs carefully, or you could end up with ropeburns. Only one at a time."

The third, fourth and fifth obstacles were fairly straight forward. One was giant ladder to climb up, one was a mesh of wire to crawl under, and one was a line of X shaped hurdles to jump over.

Physically, Ela was in shape—a year ago. A year ago, this would've been a synch. But her muscles have decayed, taking whatever confidence she had in her physical abilities with it. She had no idea how she was going to get through this.

After Storm finished her orientation, the group lined up in front of the bed-shaped structure, with Scot in front and Ela and Eddie last. She wasn't sure if she wanted to go before her brother or not—if he went before her, she could see how he was doing and if he was safe. But if she went first, it could give him more confidence.

She bent down to murmur in his ear. "Do you want to go before me or after?"

He took a step behind her without saying anything.

Ela tried to distract herself from her nerves by watching the others. Scott had made it to the sixth obstacle by now, Jean on the fifth, Rogue on the third, Kitty on the second and Kurt and Evan on the first. In a fit of anxious energy, she bounded to the cargo net the moment Evan's feet touched the ground on the other side.

But the higher she climbed, the more her fears slipped away. All she had to do was keep moving, keep climbing. She was genuinely curious to see how much her body could handle. While she'd lost the muscle, she hadn't lost the memory, and climbing the net was like climbing a fence. Her strategy was to conserve her energy wherever possible, and make up for in brains what she lacked brawns.

She took biology before. Adrenaline is your body activating your sympathetic nervous system, diverting the blood to your muscles and making you more powerful. Ela'd always known she was an adrenaline junkie, addicted to the pure feeling of bliss as your entire body became animalistic, with its sole purpose being survival. Some vacationed on a beach, or in a resort—no, Ela was never more serene than when her life was at stake. It made everything go quiet and bright. She liked the way her eyes dilated. She liked how cold she was. She liked how detached she became. Every moment alive was a victory, and the worst that could happen was death.

Detachment was dangerous. When she was detached, she forgot about Sofia, and her powers, and not to use them. But with her beloved drug seeping through her blood like poison, she didn't care. She needed the release. She wasn't sure if it was her mutation or the adrenaline, but even her head wound went numb. She felt nothing but uncontaminated energy.

Higher up the net she went, faster as she flipped to the other side. Her legs hit the platform, hard. The corrugated metal stripes were laid out in a cross hatch design, meant to trip you up if you stepped wrong. The gaps between the strips were enough to catch your leg, but you wouldn't fall through them. It must hurt the guys though. She picked her path down the center, since Kurt had moved on and Eddie was still on the net. At the top of the next ladder she paused to glance at how high she was.

"Don't worry, if you fall the Professor will catch you," Scott called from somewhere near the end of the course. She didn't need him to make her feel safer—she needed to feel more dangerous.

The walk between the first and second obstacle was enough to level her head somewhat. She pushed up the cuff of her jumpsuit and dug a thumb at the rawest part of her wrist, noticing a familiar dullness that indicated she'd slipped up. In the high of her exertion, she'd begun using her powers. Her feet carried her away from the rope and over to Storm, in the center of the room.

"I'm done."

"Are you sure—"

"_I'm done," _she said forcefully, sitting down. If the pain from training was enough to subconsciously trigger her powers, then her body had taken more of a beating than she realized. The gradual decline off the anesthetic hurt like hell as she became aware of the throbbing in her head, in her wrists, her lip. The pain cleared her mind in a different way—pain told her she was successfully blocking her once again powers. It was reassuring. It also showed her how clearly she'd failed.

"Can I go back to my room?" she asked Storm. Even Ela could hear the dejection in her voice, and she wondered what Storm accredited it to.

The weather witch stared at her for a while, lost in thought. "Dinner is at seven," she finally said.

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Timothy was the type of person who walked breezily around the classroom as he spoke. "Now, he's guilty, insofar as he did commit the crime, but he doesn't feel that way until he actually gets caught. Ok. I want everyone to write about guilt in their journals this week—don't slack just because tomorrow is Spring Break."

Her head tipped up at that. "Wait, write? Like with a pen? Like longhand?"

"Yes, _like longhand_. And don't worry. No one's gonna read it. It's just for you to get in the habit of writing every day," he said, the egg timer on his desk drowning out his last word. "Ok, guys, the rest of the class is for writing. Seriously, I want you to write about whatever it is that you feel weird, or ashamed, or guilty about. You'll feel better about it, I promise."

She stared at her paper blankly. The first idea that came to mind was the training exercise the day before, but the last thing she wanted was to relive it.

She could write about the first time she's stolen something. Her mother locked herself in her room that night and refused to come out for anything, even to feed her youngest. All she would do was blast 80′s pop and pretended to cry, hoping Eddie's father would notice and try to comfort her. Of course, he didn't care, and thus she spent the rest of the night in that room, even when the baby was screaming out in hunger. That was the night Ela committed her first crime-she rode her bike to the gas station in the middle of the night, and slipped powdered baby formula into her backpack before hurrying out. She peddled so fast back to the house her legs burned for days.  
But she didn't feel guilty. She knew the situation wasn't going to get better unless she fixed it. And while lying to the people around her was second nature, something about lying to paper didn't feel right. Instead she chose to stare blanking at it at listen to the scratching of pencils and wondered why Timothy wanted to claw her secrets from her. The monsters inside her were meant to stay where they were. Besides, she wasn't a person who harbored much guilt—she's committed a plethora of crimes, from theft to drug trafficking to assault, but all for good reasons. It kept her siblings safe—at the very least, it did at the time.

Timothy made his rounds towards the end of class, glancing at everyone's journals. He stopped in front of her table, and she noticed the boy next to her hadn't been writing either. "I see some of us are still wanting for inspiration. Are either of you going away for the holiday, or can you stay after?"

They both muttered their lack of plans to the teacher.

"Tell you what, why don't you two come see me after school today and we can see if we can get those creative juices flowing." The class erupted in a fit of giggles. "That's not what I meant. You're incorrigible. Look it up. Every single one of you should know what that means. Alright, you're free to go, everyone enjoy your break! You've earned it." _And yet he still gives homework._

There was one highlight to her day—she had Eddie shared a lunch. As he wasn't allowed to eat lunch in the high school canteen and she wasn't allowed in the middle schools, they decided to meet in the middle and eat lunch in the catwalk between the two buildings.

He'd scarfed down his food quickly, and moved on to work on his homework. Her eyes drifted over the worksheet in front of him after he didn't move for several moments. He was stuck on a math question—4x-4=60. She solved the equation in her head, telling herself he was just slower because he was younger. "Sixteen," she took a bite from her apple.

He glanced over to her before writing down the answer. "And this one?" he asked expectantly.

The question was simple, requiring only one step. "No, you know that. What do you have to do?" He didn't answer. "You have to isolate the variable, so you divide by that number," she took his pencil and wrote out the work, glancing over while she waited for him to do the mental math. "…It's four. The answer's four. You should've known that," she said, hoping she didn't sound harsh.  
"_You_ should've known that."  
She dropped her jock in mock indignation. "I _did_ know that."  
"No, you didn't."

"Yeah, I did."  
"Uh-uh," he rolled his eyes flamboyantly.  
"Yeah!" she laughed, pushing him to his side, into his backpack. "So cheeky!"

"How long are we going to be here?" he asked suddenly, laughter dripping away.

"I don't know, kid…" she paused, tucking her hair behind her ear. She was reluctant to hope for a permanent home, but it seemed like they could be staying there longer than she thought. After all, they really seemed invested in their powers. But the last thing she wanted was to give her little brother false hope. "Finish your homework."

"Why'd you leave training yesterday?" he tapped his pencil against his workbook without looking. She had pretended to be asleep when he'd come in the night before to tell her dinner was ready—she hadn't had much of an appetite anyway. And with a lack of privacy since, he hadn't asked her about it yet, anticipating her answer.

"I stopped blocking my powers without realizing it. So I left."

"I'm sure she's fine, Ela."

_And I'm sure she isn't. _He didn't speak again until the bell rang, signaling the end of C lunch. "I'm glad we're staying. I like it here."  
"Yeah?" she smiled, and kissed his head before standing up. "Don't like it too much."

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**Wowww…it's been too long. I'm sorry! I had a major depression relapse and the last few months have been hard, and work is a beast. I'll try to update more frequently**

**Bleh, I feel like this chapter is a tad filler-y, but it's necessary to start linking two plot points together**

**Anyone want to beta this story? Let me know**

**Je t'aime, mes amies!**


	5. The Journal

_**Chapter dedicated to Arla Logan. Your review made my day!**_

_Alrighty friends, a new chapter awaits. But first a long AN about the NEW MUTANTS._

_We're going to start introducing characters from the New Mutants, round of applause for that. When it comes to introducing them, I'm going to refer to the comics and the 1990s cartoon A LOT. For the most part, I think this story is going to focus around the New Mutants more than the original X-Men. _

_In the comics, Danielle Moonstar was actually one of the founders of the New Mutants—Danielle, Wolfsbane, Roberto, Cannonball and Karma. (Karma isn't in XME, and while I adore her and think she and Ela had a lot in common, she's getting 86ed. Sorry Karma) I'm going to stick to her introduction in XME, though. Jubilee, however, is joining us today, since I needed a female character closers to Ela's age than Rahne. _

_I think that's enough for now. Enjoy the chapter! It was fun to write!_

_Ps is it Scott or Scot? Eh. Whatever._

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Fifteen minutes. If she could make it fifteen minutes, she could leave. The English classroom had the windows propped open to air out the scent of school—sweat, tears and anxiety—but it was still stuffy and uncomfortable. It was simply a sticky day out; windows open or closed made no difference. She tapped out a plain rhythm with her pen on the desk, and the boy across the room from her tapped his own pencil in a contrametric harmony to hers.

"Try using those to write with," Timothy called mundanely.  
"I don't think it's gonna happen, Timothy. Maybe we're just not writers," Ela complained, wanting to get out and go back to the Institute.  
He took a deep breath, standing up from his desk. "Have you ever heard of Joan Didion?" He waited in vain for a response. "No? She's a writer—tough lady, kind of a pill. She called writing, 'a hostile act; a way of imposing your will on the world.' Now, I don't mean to point fingers," but he will, "but two of the three people in this room seem a little hostile; to me, anyway. The thing is, that sort of writing takes _real_ courage. And neither of you strike me as people who are afraid of much. Come on. _Come on_—one line, one thing that's been rattling around in your head forever. One thing you feel terrible about. Get it out. Get it down on paper. And see what happens."

_Fair enough, I suppose._ She folded one arm, laying her head close to the paper, and watched as the ink flowed and stain the paper as she scrolled out a simple name, one as familiar as her own. It was so satisfying to see each fiber of the sheet turn black, the darkness spreading like wildfire, charring everything in its path. Not unlike herself.

There was one thing in this world she felt truly terrible about. But it was an all consuming, gut churning, prickling and burning guilt that threatened to overcome her—and it often did, with detrimental results. Maybe this random teacher she's been forced to communicate with had a point. Maybe she could transfer some of her turmoil onto the paper; God knows she had enough to go around.

"No one will read it?" she clarified, lifting her head onto her chin as she spoke.

"Not a soul. I promise," Timothy said.

She stared at the ground for a moment before rolling back onto her cheek, positioning her pen above the paper, close to the margin line. She had only had to write one word, but felt obligated to explain to the inanimate object what weight this word carried. The ink was splotchy where her pen faltered, stopping for moments here or gliding easily there and she decided how to tell her tale, but the words where still legible. Her writing was chopping and fragmented—she never was much good at writing—but nonetheless, she felt almost lighter with each word she wrote.

**I never should've let them hurt her. We stole her childhood before it even started.**** They lied to her about how much pain she'd be in—though, they couldn't have expected us to be mutants, or our mutations, when they were creating her.**

The egg timer on Timothy's desk chimed. "You two are free to go. Enjoy your break," he called, not glancing up grading papers. She actually didn't want to stop writing—it felt nice to express herself for once. She talked to Eddie about most things, but she didn't want to burden him with the overwhelming guilt she carried, worried it would tip over and drown him as well. But a book had no feelings, it just gave her a chance to collect and examine hers. It was cathartic. Maybe Timothy was onto something.

It was around three in the afternoon, but the last thing she wanted to do was go back to the Institute. She wanted to finish her entry without any interruption; besides, when was the last time she'd gotten to be alone? And better yet, when would she have the opportunity to do so again. Usually she's ushered from the Institute, to school, and back to the Institute. Now she was left to her own devices, and all it took was telling Jean she had to stay after.

She didn't trust her sense of direction to find any place other than the Institute. "Could I stay in here?" she asked cautiously, figuring sharing a classroom with Timothy was better than going back to Mutant Mansion.

He didn't look up. "Sure, if you want. I'm not leaving till I finish this paperwork," he shot a resentful look at the six inch stack of student assignments. "If I might ask, why?"

"It's just…quieter here—easier to think."

He glanced up knowingly. "You're one of Charles Xavier's kids, aren't you?"

"That's right."

"I have Kurt _and _Evan together in one of my classes. Believe me; I understand how loud it must get up there. So go ahead, finish your entry—I'm glad you're really getting into it," he looked back down at his papers, and Ela took it as a cue to return to her seat, unpacking her journal and pen once again and resumed her position with her head close to the paper. She'd have a stiff neck later she was sure of it, but it was so satisfying to watch the pen bleed into the paper.

"The Xavier Institute is for gifted children—what's your gift?"

"Cooking," she said without really thinking about it. Shit, she ruined a pan before trying to boil water.

"Ah," he said, and the both returned to their work.

**She didn't deserve any of this. It was my job to protect her. But she spent her whole life sacrificing for me. They cut her up and used her for parts from the moment she was born. Then they took her away from us because of me. If I haven't screwed up, she wouldn't have gotten sick. They probably never would've known we were mutants if it wasn't for me. **

Storm rushed up to her the moment she walked through the door.

"Where _were _you?" she demanded, frantic.

"At school—I told Jean that I was staying after…" she trailed off, not understanding if Storm was more angry or afraid.

"You said you'd be home by three—" _Had I? _"—and it's nearly _five_. I was _worried_," she emphasized the end of each sentence.

"Sorry," she shrugged, not sure what to do.

Storm sighed, placing a hand on her lower back. "Come meet your new roommate."

_Should've stayed at school, _she chided herself. "New roommate?" the two walked towards her room.

"Jubilation Lee. She's probably asleep—she's had a long few days. You have too, for that matter."

Ela glanced up at Storm. It was the first time someone had really acknowledged that. They stopped at the door to her room, which now had two gold plaques on the mahogany door—_Gabriela Garcia, Jubilation Lee. _Storm handed her two white boxes.

"Cell phones for you and Jubilee; we're all on the same plan. Unlimited texts, one hundred minutes of calls each, four gigabytes of data each. Use it wisely. Are you good with technology?"

"Not in the slightest."

It wasn't a joke, but Storm laughed. "I'll ask Scott to come in later to help you set them up. For now, why don't you get some sleep? Jubilee knows this is your room too, you won't startle her."

She wanted her own room again. Or to share one with Eddie, maybe. "Aren't there plenty of rooms? Why do she and I have to share?"

"We just feel you two have a lot in common. Besides, it's only temporary until we get another room set up for Jubilee. We weren't exactly expecting a new resident so soon. Go get some sleep, you could use it after the last few days you've had."

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"I never touched it!"

"No one else has even been in here!"

"I _never_ _touched_ it!"

"Hey! Enough shouting! What is going on?" Jean walked into the room of the two newest roommates at the Institute.

"She read my journal," Ela spat, glaring at Jubilee. She'd known the girl an hour and already she couldn't stand her.  
"No, I didn't!" She screeched indigently. Scot leaned against the doorway, arms folded.  
"Well, somebody did. I left it right here, second from the bottom," she pointed to the books on her nightstand, "and when I woke up, it was moved."

"Well, it wasn't me," she tossed her hair over her shoulder.  
Jean stared at Chinese girl. "Tell me the truth, Jubilee. I'll know if you're lying."

"I am! I never touched it!"

She looked for a long moment at the girl before turning to Ela. "She isn't lying."  
"Ok, is it possible that it wasn't really moved?" Scot offered. "That you just think it was?"

She looked over at Sunglasses, ready to rebuttal, but behind him her little brother stood, disapproval hardening his face.  
"You know what? Forget it," she muttered, walking towards Eddie. "Don't worry about it. You're probably right. It was probably my fault. I just forgot or something, probably."  
"I can't live with her!" she heard behind her as she led Eddie down the hall, hand on his back.  
"Well, you have to. So, figure it out," Jean hissed, exasperated.  
The two siblings went to Eddie's abandoned room, settling on the bed. Ela pulled her legs up and rested her head on her knees.

"Why'd you have to get so mad? Why can't you just get along with her?"

"She read my journal," she groaned, rocking her forehead back and forth. Why couldn't she have written random crap down for her assignment like everyone else?  
"What do you care? It's just some dumb journal," Eddie growled at her.  
"See for yourself—" she tossed it between them, burying her face in her knees at her stupidity. Her brother didn't speak for a long while, and when he did his voice was the softer, gentler tone she was used to.  
"You wrote about Sofia?"

She sighed, taking a deep breath. Her mouth was open, ready to respond when Kitty walked into the room, effectively ending their conversation. "So you and Jubilee aren't fast friends?"

She didn't answer, angry she couldn't get five minutes away from these people.

"Rogue and I didn't get along great when she first got here. We fought like, every day. This one time…" she trailed off, realizing Ela wasn't listening and changed tactics. "Did anyone show you where the good bathtub is? Come on, I'll show you,"

She glanced at her brother, but he shook his head. "You go, I got homework," he said, signaling the end to their conversation.

She followed Kitty wordlessly, trying to keep track of the different twists and turns. In all honesty, she did want to remember how to find it again—she always enjoyed baths. "In here," Kitty said, opening the door without going in. "There're bath oils and stuff in the basket. Seriously, you look like you could use a good bath. Don't worry about hot water or anything, we got plenty."

"Thanks," Ela said genuinely. She took a micro short shower the day before, but it was only long enough to shampoo her hair and run a bar of soap under her arms. And a bath _would _help all her cuts and scrapes heal, no powers necessary.

She filled the massive tub with steaming hot water. Juvie didn't have bathtubs, especially not ones the size of a small child pool. A basket beside the sink was filled with different jars of oils and salts. She pulled out a few of them, recognizing the labels. One of the few things she picked up from her mother was an herbalist's mind. On her good days, Ana made extra money by selling apothecary supplies to the others in the housing project, showing her oldest daughter how she ran her business.

Most of the stuff in the basket was processed and foreign, but she managed to find Epsom salt and lavender oil; surely, it must have the same benefits as the lavender flowers she and her mother used. Both the salt and the oil dispersed quickly in the steaming water.  
She eased her way in, allowing the hot water to envelope her and begin heal her battered and torn body. Eddie told her years ago he didn't remember their father. Ela hardly did. But memories of their mother were slightly more recent, and the scent of lavender, her mother's favorite, still put a dull ache in her chest.

Would her mother even recognize her at this point? It'd been five years. During which times, Ela had shot up and out. Her hair was longer than she kept it as a child, though she still bit her nails to the bed. When she looked in the mirror, she saw her dad's greens eyes and square face, rather than her mother's narrower and hollowed one, like her siblings. She had her mother's rich Puerto Rican skin, but almost every other physical trait she'd gotten from her dad. Thick hair, square jaw, hooded eyes. She was the spitting image of him, with slightly more curves. She wished she remembered him enough to miss him. All she had of his were a few torn and fragmented memories of him singing her and her siblings to sleep at night.

Both girls were still simmering from their squabble earlier when they went to bed that night.

"Do you think you're going to be up much longer?" Jubilee asked, her politeness in her voice sounding stiff and forced. "I can't sleep with the lights on."

Ela had her bedside lamp on, trying to finish a chapter in her book before she went to bed and was ready to tell Jubilee as much when she remembered Eddie's disappointed face from this morning. He hated when she fought with their roommates, because it'd gotten them booted from a home before. "Uh, no…" she murmured, clicking the switch off.

She thought Jubilee had fallen asleep and was debating turning the lamp back on when she heard a loud sigh. "Look, Ela…I didn't read your journal. I know you don't believe me," she paused. "And that's fine. I mean, why should you? They told me you were a foster kid too. And I know I'm just the latest girl you've been forced to share a room with. I remember what that was like, being passed around all the time…so, I get it. But I didn't read your journal." She paused again, longer this time. "And I'm new here too. Newer than you. I'm just as scared as you are," _somehow I doubt that_ "and I don't know, maybe we could be friends. It'd be nice, I guess."

For a while Ela stared at the ceiling. "I'm no good at friends," she answered finally.

"Well neither am I. What are you good at?" Jubilee said apathetically.

"I'm good at gymnastics," she said without really thinking about it.

"So am I," she said, surprised. "My parents had me in lessons as soon as I could walk," she said, nostalgia dragging her words.

"What happened to your parents?" Ela rolled onto her side, holding her chin up with her palm.

"Murdered. Yours?"

"Didn't want mutants," she said, not knowing how else to explain it.

"Life's a bitch."

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So we're on the same page, **bolded passages come from Ela's journal. **We good? We good.

Chapters slightly abrupt, I know, I'm tired and want to update.

I've worked 44 hours in the last 5 days and I'm literally dying goodbye my beautiful friends.


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